


Weird

by blutopaz15



Series: Post S3 Fics [5]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Banter, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Love, Making Out, Romance, Snuggling, Teasing, backrub, flirty!Rayla, maybe slightly on the risque fluff side?, overthinking!Callum, teenage hormones...what can i say?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blutopaz15/pseuds/blutopaz15
Summary: “Quit complaining,” she ordered, “or I’m just going to let you suffer.”“As opposed to?” he asked, wincing again when he tried to turn his head to try to look at that angry-cute expression he hoped she was wearing. He caught the tail end of the angry-cute and the start of...a different look.“I told you,” she said, voice low and more flirtatious than he knew what to do with, “I can help.” Her thumbs made her point, pressing more firmly against his sore muscles, and a little of the aching seemed to vanish when she was done. “Hurry up,” she said, her lips brushing against his cheek before she let her hands fall and wandered away. If her cheeks had been scarlet over dinner...Callum was sure his must’ve been positively crimson now.--An outtake chapter from Love Like You
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Rayllum - Relationship
Series: Post S3 Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018518
Comments: 21
Kudos: 67





	Weird

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Love Like You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27459154) by [blutopaz15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blutopaz15/pseuds/blutopaz15). 



> Hi all! 
> 
> I got an ask on tumblr asking for cuddly, kissy, snuggly Rayllum after a long day of training...so why not use that as an excuse to write this outtake from [Love Like You (my mid TTM fic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27459154/chapters/67132540) that's alluded to in chapters 8 and 9? This has been bouncing around in my brain since the planning phases of that fic anyway...this was originally the general idea for Physical Touch, Part 2 before I let the angst in...
> 
> Here's a link to [Chapter 8](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27459154/chapters/68178542) of that story if you'd like a bit more context but don't want to read the whole thing.
> 
> I tried to be a little more in Callum's head rather being as descriptive of body language as I usually am, so that's a little different for me in this fic.
> 
> Also, it occurs to me that this fic title has almost certainly been done before...so apologies in advance if so.
> 
> Be warned...this fluff is a *little* bit on the risque, teenage hormones side.
> 
> Lol @ the fact that this is literally just 3000 words of flirty, cuddly nonsense, haha. Hope you enjoy!!

The worst part, Callum thought, was _definitely_ his back. It wasn’t _quite_ as severe as the ache that had developed once he figured out how to get his arms back after the Storm Spire, but the soreness _was_ more widespread, tendons and muscles tightly wound and tender. It hadn’t been _so_ bad while Rayla had still been keeping him busy and moving all day, but as soon as dinner was served and he sat down, the stiffness set it, making him wince as he lifted the potatoes to pass to Ez and strain to turn his head enough to kiss Rayla’s cheek when, in front of everyone, she’d let it slip through her teasing that she “didn’t doubt him for a second.” Grinning at her hadn’t seemed like enough, and it _was_ fun to make her blush all scarlet like that. Worth the pain.

The _best_ part, though, had _definitely_ been Rayla’s hands on his shoulders a few minutes after he’d dutifully shuffled over to the big wash-basin to start working on the dishes. (Of _course_ it had to be his turn when he was too sore and worn out to even stand up straight...) He could admit, in hindsight, that his griping and groaning had been a _little_ overdramatic, but it _had_ made Rayla appear behind him, which had pretty much been the point of his complaining anyway. Her scolding struck a sharp contrast to her thumbs gently rubbing little circles against the knots that were developing in his shoulders. 

“Quit complaining,” she ordered, “or I’m just going to let you suffer.”

“As opposed to?” he asked, wincing again when he tried to turn his head to try to look at that angry-cute expression he hoped she was wearing. He caught the tail end of the angry-cute and the start of...a _different_ look.

“I told you,” she said, voice low and more flirtatious than he knew what to do with, “I can help.” Her thumbs made her point, pressing more firmly against his sore muscles, and a little of the aching seemed to vanish when she was done. “Hurry up,” she said, her lips brushing against his cheek before she let her hands fall and wandered away. If _her_ cheeks had been _scarlet_ over dinner...Callum was sure his must’ve been positively _crimson_ now.

He picked up the pace on the dishes.

He’d been disappointed, then, when, after all that rushing, Rayla was standing in the door of their shared space with his pajamas in hand and more orders instead of more backrubs. “Go wash up. Hot water.” His shoulders slumped over— _ouch—_ and he stifled a groan about the delay, not necessarily wanting to give voice to how eager he was about the prospect of her fingers digging into him like that again, all firm and careful and warm...

A massage was _supposed_ to feel that good, right? That wasn’t _weird_ or _wrong_ or...anything...to want her to do that...right?

He sighed.

“Complaining!” she scolded, shoving the bundle of clothes into his arms and turning him by the shoulders in the direction of the bathhouse at the center of the cluster of dormitories. 

Disappointment turned to _grump_ as he washed, as it became clear to Callum that the nice, warm _feeling_ of the illusion water in the bathhouse only went skin deep, doing absolutely _nothing_ for the soreness all along his spine and shoulders. In fact, it felt like every muscle had seized up _even more_ in the water, which was surely actually only lukewarm at best beneath the illusion.

Callum muttered to himself about all of it all—the running, the cartwheels, the _exercise_ in general, the _water_ —as he put his weight behind his shoulder, pressing against the door to their shared moon dorm. Had it always been that _heavy_? 

Rayla’s head was already cocked to the side, an eyebrow raised as she watched him come in. His crankiness immediately softened, seeing her all cozy in _his_ pajamas, all curled up in _his_ chair, flipping through _his_ sketchbook. His eyes flickered to the page between her fingers—the one with the drawing of their hands, which always seemed to be the one he caught her looking at—as the corner of her mouth lifted in amusement. She snapped the sketchbook shut, the little puff of air the action generated moving a lock of soft white hair, and brought her other leg up to sit cross-legged in the chair, knees resting against the arms, turning to look at him more fully as he hobbled closer. His legs weren’t _that_ stiff, but complaining had so far earned him nothing but backrubs and teasing...so he hammed it up.

“Is that _more_ complaining I hear?” She wasn’t scolding anymore despite the fact that he _was_ very much still complaining, her tone instead taking on playfully patronizing lilt.

“That did _not_ help,” he grumbled, depositing his clothes at the end of his bed. “Not even a little bit. Apparently illusion water is no good for _actual_ pain. _”_

“Oh my— _pain?_ Callum. Come on. You’re just sore.” She scoffed and leaned back in the chair, rolling her eyes. The playful light in her eyes fell away in favor of that _other_ look again...a somehow even _more_ twinkly glint of mischief. “Just for that, I’m not gonna—

“No, please?” he pouted before he could stop himself, his cheeks coloring again when he realized how stupidly desperate he sounded. Surprise, then pleasure, then more _mischief_ flew across Rayla’s features as she stood and crossed to him, her lips ending up in his favorite smug little smile. 

He’d extended his hand to her because he _thought_ she was reaching for his hand too, but her fingers kept going beyond his to meet his hip and tug _upward_ on the hem of his pajama top. 

As soon as he flinched, she stopped pulling, but her fingers stayed wrapped up in the fabric. “Rayla! What are you—“ 

The flush in her cheeks (that she was ignoring) and the smirk (that only grew wider when he met her eye) could only mean...trouble. _That_ was the look. Trouble. _Fun_ trouble. Kissing-in-the-rain-continuation trouble. His breath caught.

“You said please,” she shrugged and tugged again, downward now. Then the flirtation fell away in favor of something much sweeter, and her other hand squeezed at his shoulder. Oh right. He was sore...and she—her _hands—_ could help with that. She tugged once more, the sweetness and the sass replaced with nonchalance. “So...off. And lay down.”

Her expression was decidedly neutral as she blinked at him and—he thought by the way the corner of her mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly—that that was _extremely_ deliberate on her part. It’d have to be, right? No way she thought it was _normal_ for them—well, for _him_ —to take off their— _his!—_ clothes.

The connection between his brain and his body snapped in two realizing that she intended to _touch_ him too.

If her hands had felt so nice against his shoulders before...

“Uhh…” He froze, and she sighed. 

“Don’t make it weird, Callum,” she scolded flatly.

Still though, she crossed her arms and rotated away, _just_ slightly, eyes to the ceiling as he yanked the shirt off over his head. Her cheeks colored despite the way she pressed her lips together, and if could think clearly, he might’ve prodded her back about the _weirdness_ that she seemed to be trying very hard to appear immune to.

It wasn’t that it was really _weird,_ though. It was just... _new._ Despite all the awkward hesitation, he didn’t really _mind_ being bare-chested in front of her when she looked back to him, her eyes blinking to his abdomen for _just_ a second, but something about the act of _taking off_ the shirt had seemed...intimate. He swallowed hard about the fact that _she’d_ intended to take it off _for him_ , then again when she gestured behind him to his mattress.

He turned to lay down, but looked back at her _just_ to be sure that the way his imagination was running was actually as off-track as he thought it probably was. “On my...my stomach?”

Rayla nodded. He’d almost forgotten how sore he was before he started lowering himself down.

“Of course on your stomach,” she scoffed as he laid down. “It’s your _back_ that hurts...right?” The sass was back and he imagined that the last word came with a wink. 

Right. The alternative was _not_...well, the alternative was even _bigger_ trouble _. Especially_ if she was planning on...yup. Her hips settled over his. He was grateful to be able to bury his burning face in his pillow, especially when her hands, a little chilly, made contact with the small of his back, pushing down firmly along either side of his spine. She shifted her weight, leaning forward to press her hands up, along his back, towards his shoulders. Every point of contact—even just her shins pressing against his sides—made his skin tingle. He shivered. 

“Sorry,” she said, pausing to blow warm air on her hands. She returned her fingers—which hadn’t _really_ been the source of the shivering _anyway_ —to the same spot as earlier, where his neck met his shoulders. “Is this where it’s the worst?” she asked.

“Uhm...yeah,” he mumbled. Her hands warmed as she rubbed there and his nerves and his shoulders went all melty in the same moment, the tingle fading in favor of warm, gooey delight. “There, and down to like…mid-back area?”

The tingle returned just as quickly as it’d left as her weight shifted again and her hands drifted down.

“Here?” She dug her thumbs in on either side of his spine right between his shoulder blades. 

He sighed and let the gooey feeling reign again. “Yeah.” 

She pressed forward, the added weight behind her fingers making her touch firm and just a _little_ bit painful. _Good_ painful, though. The kind that he knew would make his achy muscles loosen.

She giggled when he let out another sigh. “Is this okay?” she asked. Her hands had made it back up to his shoulders again and she paused to rub there a moment. 

“Feels good,” Callum muttered, having officially decided that this was _not_ weird. Just _nice_.

“Enjoying yourself?” 

And then, _of course_ , she had to say something like _that_ with that _smug_ tone.

His flushed cheeks—still hidden in the pillow, thankfully—were a hopeless case at this point, but he took a second to collect the tremor that he knew would be in his voice, at least. 

“Are _you_?” He asked, hoping the question read as flirtation.

Palms pressing against him, she leaned down to kiss the back of his neck. Her lips found his ear to whisper: “Sure am.”

He was _very_ aware of her hips settling back against his again.

He changed the subject.

“Mmhmm...gonna take a nap I think,” he mused.

“You better not!” Her hands returned to their work pressing into the knotted muscles—significantly less tight now—of his back.

“Why not?” He chuckled in response to her insistence.

“You owe me,” she explained simply, her hands pausing for a moment so she could shrug her shoulders.

“ _You_ did this to me in the first place!” He said, lifting on his elbows to turn and look at her in mild and teasing disbelief. Her eyes narrowed and she flicked him in the back of the head.

“ _You_ volunteered, dummy!” He snickered as she insistently pressed him back down into his pillow. Her hands were much lighter against him now, fingertips just barely brushing down his spine and then over shoulder-blades...the tingle was back.

Callum's mouth went dry thinking back to what she’d said a moment ago...he _owed_ her?

“...I guess I could...return the favor?” he ventured. After all, this really wasn’t _that_ weird. Was it more or less weird for him to sit across _her_ hips like that? Less weird, he decided. Definitely _more_ weird, though, if she...she wasn’t interested in _that_ much trouble…

 _Was_ she? 

“Hmm...interesting idea,” she started, the hum long and drawn out. He couldn’t get a read on just how _interesting_ she found it with her behind him like she was.

“ _I’m_ not sore, though,” she continued. Okay, so not _that_ much trouble. She moved off of him and plopped down at his side as he pushed up on his elbows. She reached for a hand to thread their fingers together and rubbed her thumb along his. “Today _hardly_ counted as training.” He could only glare. “For me, I mean.”

“So, I think there are better things you could owe me,” she shrugged, and her smile became familiarly sheepish. How could she be shy about cuddling after all of _that_? Callum smirked as she continued. “Really I just want you to stay up so we can—”

“Cuddle?” 

“—snuggle.”

He hadn’t _meant_ to knock her back against the headboard with the kiss, but his guessing at what she wanted had made her ears immediately brighten all pink, and she’d been looking off to the side all embarrassed, and, well…she was _cute_.

He hadn’t meant to pin her there either...it’d just been convenient for his hands to fall on either side of her shoulders. Her lips remained parted when he pulled his away, and the blush had spread down her neck now. When she glanced to his arm at her right, he thought she might slide away, but she wriggled closer instead as her eyes—hazy and lavender and heated—flickered back to his. Her breath was all sweet-smelling and warm, just an inch from his lips and...this was... _trouble._

“Get dressed,” she whispered, eyes flashing down to his mouth again. She chewed on her bottom lip, pressing him gently away by a hand on his chest, the tingle of her touch practically searing as he moved away and tugged his shirt back over his head. She cleared her throat after a long quiet moment of pink cheeks and breath-catching. “You still owe me.”

He grinned and reached for his book on his nightstand, ready to lift an arm, receive a kiss to his cheek, and have Rayla settle against his side for cozy cuddles as usual.

When he turned back, she shook her head and took the book from his hands, dropping it to the ground on the other side of the bed. “Nuh-uh. Book away. _That’s_ what you owe me.” He took a breath to apologize, but she stopped him. ”I don’t usually mind—but I just want…” Her eyes shifted around all nervously again in the silence. 

He _probably_ shouldn’t push her back against the headboard again...right? Not in the middle of a sentence, at least?

He tilted his head to the side instead, appreciating that cute, shy, blushiness again as he filled in the blank with a knowing smile. “Attention?”

“Don’t make fun of me.” She glared, but he could tell by the way her lips pursed to one side that she was trying to curb a smile too.

“I’m not! It’s sweet. _You’re_ sweet,” he said, turning to kiss her cheek. She let the smile breakout in earnest. “Come here.” 

He scooted down, laying down flat—as always. She reciprocated the kiss to his cheek—as always—and slotted under his arm. Bookless and with a free hand he was unaccustomed to having when all snuggled up before bed with Rayla like this, he drew her closer, fingers pulling at the fabric over her waist to keep her flush against him. His hand was made redundant though, when she hooked her knee over his, pressing close— _much_ closer than usual—of her own accord, and he let that free hand...drift.

She nuzzled in somehow closer still against his chest after his hand’s first pass from hip to shoulder. “Mmm...this is _nice_ ,” she mumbled as his hand ran up her back again.

Callum was about to agree that, yes, it was _nice_ ...not weird, not trouble, just _nice_ ...but then, _of course_ — _again_ —she pulled his brain back into _trouble_ territory. This time, though, he thought it _probably_ hadn’t been intentional. 

Sighing and threading her fingers through his hair was _totally_ just an innocent and natural reaction to a back rub, right?

He thought back to _his_ sighing and how she’d _giggled_ about it. And that’d been with her hands on _bare_ skin. Though, he supposed there was a _reason_ why he wasn’t _exactly_ returning the favor. After all, she was—wait, what was so smooth and warm under his hand?

 _Oh._ _Her_ back. Well, her _side,_ really. Just her _hip_ , honestly, or, at least, a pale patch of skin just above her hip. He blinked at the gap between the rumpled tangerine of the pajama top and the stark white of her pants, noting the slight pink tinge to the soft flesh his fingers were now frozen against.

He yelped when he realized how his whole _hand_ was tingling with the touch and tugged the hem of her shirt back down. “Oops! Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t—”

Rayla looked up in alarm, before her eyes floated down to his fingers, still holding the fabric in place. She shrugged and tucked her head back down against his chest before even commenting. She hadn’t even...noticed?

“It’s okay,” she said, wiggling in closer to him again, her fingers wandering back up to twirl a random piece of his hair. She yawned and a few little tremors shook her body as she stretched. “You didn’t mean to.” 

...or maybe she just didn’t _care_? 

His hand had only made it just past her shoulder blade again before the mischief and teasing returned to her voice. Again, he was glad that she _wasn’t_ looking at him because she was _definitely_ , _intentionally_ making it weird now. Maybe...that was okay? Maybe it _was_...but that didn’t stop his blush at her next words.

“And plus, Callum, I don’t mind.”


End file.
